


Tangled

by Dellessa



Series: Night Cycle Verse [5]
Category: Transformers Animated (2007), Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, M/M, Sparklings, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 06:41:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/pseuds/Dellessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The youngling had always grew rather excited at Master Prowl’s visits, even though the mech made his parents visibly nervous. He didn’t understand it. Prowl always brought him energon lollies, and told him what a beautiful little sparkling he was. How very much he looked like his so many times great carrier. There was a painting of Coda on the wall in the great hall. He had always liked the picture. It was large, bright, and the mech was beautiful. He would reach up on ped-tip to touch the frame’s edge, even when he was yelled at not to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangled

**Title:** Tangled  
 **Verse:** G1 AU with bits of Animated.  
 **Series:** Night Cycle Verse  
 **Rating:** M  
 **Warnings/Content:** Character Death. Vampires. Blood play. Sparklings. Allusions to mech preg. Sticky sex. Grooming.   
**Pairings/Characters:** Bluestreak/Prowl  
 **Notes:** Not mine!!! Set after Enfolded, and Before Turned.   
**Prompt:** How Bluestreak and Prowl met.   
**Words:** 6834  
  
The youngling had always grew rather excited at Master Prowl’s visits, even though the mech made his parents visibly nervous. He didn’t understand it. Prowl always brought him energon lollies, and told him what a beautiful little sparkling he was. How very much he looked like his so many times great carrier. There was a painting of Coda on the wall in the great hall. He had always liked the picture. It was large, bright, and the mech was beautiful. He would reach up on ped-tip to touch the frame’s edge, even when he was yelled at not to.  
  
Bluestreak peaked through the doorway, and listened to his creator cry. “‘Tor?” It made Bluestreak so sad when his creator acted like this. Still he did not protest when he was picked up and cuddled, then held tightly. “Wha’s the matters?” He asked, hugging his creator back, worried over this behavior. “‘Tor?”   
  
“He’s a beast. He will take you away from us.” Bluestreak’s creator rocked him back and forth, crying over his helm.   
  
Bluestreak leaned in, hugging his creator, little hands latching onto armor and clinging. “I like Prowler.”   
  
“I know you do, tenderspark. You are such a good little sparkling. You are. So good. You deserve better than this. But even if we ran away he would find you and take you away from us.”  
  
Bluestreak cuddled close, offlining his optics as his creator rubbed little circles across his winglets. He made a little purring noise, drifting closer and closer to recharge as they sat there together.   
  
“Mimic,” Bluestreak’s sire peeked around the corner. “They are here. You must come down, love.”   
  
Mimic stood with the drowsy mechling in his arms, and glared daggers at his sparkmate. “Ree, don’t push me---I don’t---I just---”   
  
Skullduggery crossed the room, hugging his diminutive mate and their sparkling to his chest. “The sooner it is, the easier it will be on Blue, you know that, love. I don’t want to give him up any more than you do...but it is the price we pay. Just as your creators did.”   
  
Mimic whimpered, clutching onto Bluestreak. “It’s not fair.”  
  
“No, it is not, but he will be loved, and taken care of,” Skullduggery said patiently. He knew it was not something they could get out of. Prowl would hunt them to the ends of Cybertron and back.   
  
“He already IS loved,” Mimic cried, waking the sparkling in his arms.    
  
“He is,” Skullduggery agreed, “But it is out of our hands.”   
  
Mimic gave a shuddering sigh, and brushed past his mate to go see the devil.   
  
  


OoOoOoOoOoOo

  
  
Prowl was waiting below, too still for Mimic’s comfort. The old vampire’s optics were locked on Bluestreak, which never failed to agitate Mimic.   
  
“He looks more and more like Coda every time I see him.” He put his arms out to take the sparkling completely ignoring the look that Mimic shot him.   
  
Bluestreak smiled sleepily as he was settled into Prowl’s arms. “He’s perfect.”   
  
“He’s not Coda,” Mimic snapped, gaining the vampire’s attention. He was wholly unprepared for the cold look that Prowl gave him.   
  
“I realise that, but he IS mine all the same. You would do well to remember that. You live in this fashion upon my sufferance,” the vampire growled.   
  
The harsh voices woke Bluestreak, who let out a little pained whimper, and turned, hiding his face against Prowl’s plating. Prowl hummed, petting Bluestreak’s winglets until the sparkling relaxed again, and let out a sound that was far too close to a purr for Mimic’s piece of processor.   
  
“Bluestreak knows his place, perhaps you should remember yours as well,” Prowl murmured, anger still simmering deep in his optics. “I will be taking him with me when I leave.”   
  
Mimic’s faceplates crumbled, “Please no. Not yet.”     
  
Bluestreak whimpered as anger flared across Prowl’s field, and flared his own out in return in an attempt to calm the old mech. “Prowler? Please, no.”   
  
Prowl frowned, making a visible effort to calm himself, and smooth out his field. “I am sorry little one. Do you want to leave with me?”  
  
Bluestreak frowned, his optics darting to Mimic. The little mech knew what his carrier wanted him to say, but at the same time he liked Prowl, and he did like going places. Sometimes his sire would take him flying. So high. He loved being able to see the city from far, far above. Other times Mimic would take him walking out into the city to see the crystal gardens. It was one of his favourite places. “Can I?”   
  
Prowl’s lips curled into a triumphant grin. “Certainly, little one.”   
  
Bluestreak smiled, resting his little helmet against Prowl’s chestplates and offlined his optics.   
  
  


OoOoOoOoOoOo

  
  
Bluestreak was not sure about his new home. It was so large and rambling. He was not allowed to go anywhere, not really. He missed his creators, and his siblings. He had not understood why Ruse and Quirk had cried and clung to him when he was leaving. They were so much older than him, and the youngling wondered if they knew it would be like this.   
  
He had his own room that was part of Prowl’s suit of rooms. It was so much bigger than his room at his creators. His nanny slept in the same room to keep an optic on him, he guessed.   
  
Prowl had explained it, and so many other things, but Bluestreak did not understand most of them, just like he did not understand why Soundwave hated him so much. The large blue mech was always glaring, his field flaring angry.   
  
He wanted Prowl to take him home, but the vampire became agitated any time he asked, so he stopped asking.   
  
Worse still, he did not like the little bits of energon Prowl fed him from his own lines. It always made him feel funny. Although it felt nice when Prowl bit him. He didn’t understand that. Quirk had bit him once and it had hurt something horrible.   
  
“Bluestreak, you are supposed to be working on your lessons for today,” his nanny, Safekeep, said, “You do not want to disappoint Prowl, do you?”   
  
“No,” Bluestreak said, his little shoulders falling. Despite everything, he still craved Prowl’s approval, and more so his attention.   
  
“That’s a good bot,” Safekeep murmured. “Prowl said that if you are well behaved today we might take a trip to one of the crystal gardens.”   
  
“Yes, Safekeep, I’ll be good,” he said his attention focusing on the datapad on the table in front of him. He studied the datapad, one on Cybertronian ancient history, until his optics felt heavy.   
  
He didn’t hear Prowl walk in, squeaking when he was scooped up and held against Prowl’s cool chassis. “Sparklet, are you minding Safekeep?”   
  
“Yes, he said he would take me to the gardens,” Bluestreak said, purring as he was held close. “Would you go with us?”   
  
“Oh, bitlet, I can’t go out in the light. Unfortunately it is not possible, it makes me very...ill,” Prowl said, setting the mechling down on his peds.   
  
Bluestreak nodded, looking forlorn. Despite being with bots all the time, he was terribly lonely.   
  
  


OoOoOoOoOoOo

  
Bluestreak sprawled across his berth, feeling put out and forlorn. It had been five vorns since he had came to live with Prowl. Life had fallen into a predictable pattern. Bluestreak studied, worked with his tutors in weapons training and whatever else Prowl saw fit to educate him in. He was not happy though. As much as he tried to please Prowl it was never enough to keep the mech’s attention on him. It always wandered back to Soundwave.   
  
Bluestreak hated the mech. He detested the way the host mech belittled whatever Bluestreak did. Pointing out his flaws. Laughing that horrible laugh and telling him that Prowl did not care for him. It hurt. Bluestreak wanted Prowl to notice him more than anything, to hug him, hold him. He didn’t entirely understand it, but he craved the mech’s approval as much as he craved energon when his tank was running low.   
  
“Credit for your thoughts?” Prowl said, smiling as he sat down on the berth next to Bluestreak.   
  
“I’m not sure they are worth even that much,” Bluestreak said giving him a crooked smile.   
  
“Of course, they are,” Prowl said, smoothing a hand across Bluestreak’s doorwings, making the little mech shiver.   
  
“Do you think you could take me out, somewhere? Please,” he said, looking up, “Just the two of us? There is this art exhibit of this bot’s works, Sunstreaker, I’d really love to go...just the two of us.”   
  
Prowl pulled a face, he never liked that sort of outing. He was a private mech. “I suppose I could see if Soundwave would be interested in going. We could make an outing of it,” Prowl finally offered.   
  
“S-soundwave? Why does---I---guess---never mind,” he said, doorwings drooping as he inched away from Prowl. “I didn’t want to go that bad anyway,” he said, fighting back the tears that threatened to well up in his optics.   
  
Prowl watched him fight to control his emotions. He often did not understand the little mech. Certainly not the way his emotions seemed to sway one way and then the next, or his blatant dislike of Soundwave.    
  
“Bluestreak---you know, Soundwave is not so bad once you get to know him,” Prowl finally said, hating the way Bluestreak’s lip quivered with emotion and finally he burst into tears.  
  
“He hates me,” Bluestreak wailed.   
  
“I don’t see how that could be true,” Prowl said stiffly, defending his lover.   
  
“He said I wasn’t worthy of you. I’m not worth your time. And---you---you would grow bored of me and send me away. You aren’t going to are you? Please don’t. Where would I go? My family wouldn’t want me back.”  
  
Prowl listened, a frown marring his faceplates. “Bluestreak, it’s not like that. I cannot believe Soundwave would say such things. He is a good mech.”   
  
“He hates me, and maybe you do too,” Bluestreak said, turning away from Prowl. “I don’t know why you couldn't have left me with my family. I miss them. I always miss them, but you don’t care,” he whimpered, “You hate me.”   
  
“I do not hate you,” Prowl said with a surprising amount of patience, far more than he would ever have with any other mech.   
  
“You don’t like me either, though. All I want is a tiny bit of your time,” Bluestreak said in a little voice. “Just us. You used to love being near me.”   
  
Prowl vented, “Fine, I will take you to see the gallery show, if that is what you want,” he caressed the little Praxian’s cheek. In truth, the little mech had become too much of a temptation. He was so close to adulthood that he was becoming far too tempting. It would have been all too easy to press the little mech down into the berth and have his fill of him. But he refused to let himself rush Bluestreak through what little childhood the teenbot had left.   
  
Bluestreak’s optics widened, “You will, really?” he squealed, throwing his arms around Prowl’s neck.   
  
Prowl hugged the teenbot to him, and chuckled softly at Bluestreak’s enthusiasm. He nuzzled into the warm neckplates, fangs scraping before they sank in. He allowed himself that at least.   
  
  


OoOoOoOoOoOo

  
  
Bluestreak’s optics were wide as they walked through the gallery. Prowl was a patron of the arts, and even had some of Sunstreaker’s paintings hanging in their home, but seeing them in a gallery setting was something novel to the teenbot. He wandered away from Prowl, taking in the portraits. Sunstreaker had a unique style, far more ethereal than the more common geometric designs that seemed to dominate Cybertronian art.   
  
“So, you like it?” a voice asked over his shoulder.   
  
Bluestreak startled, he had not heard the bot walk up behind him. “Oh, oh I do.” His optics widened as he got a look at the bot beside him. “Oh...you’re Sunstreaker aren’t you?”   
  
A mischievous grin spread across the bot’s faceplates. “I am, and who are you pretty bot?”  
Energon rushed to Bluestreak’s faceplates. “I---I’m Bluestreak, it’s really nice to meet you. I love your work, the colours are amazing.”  
  
Sunstreak laughed, putting a hand at the small of Bluestreak’s spinal struts. “You should model for me, pretty bot. I’d love to paint you, to get to know you better.”   
  
Bluestreak giggled. “I---”   
  
“That would not be possible I fear,” a cold voice stated behind them. “Please remove your hands from my betrothed.”    
  
Bluestreak turned, energon freezing in his lines. “Prowl, I’m sorry. I didn’t---”   
  
“Bluestreak,” Prowl held out his hand, latching on to Bluestreak as soon as the mech was within reach.  
  
“He only asked if he could paint me. That’s all. Please don’t be mad,” Bluestreak whimpered at the thought, even as he silently reveled at being pulled close. Prowl’s possessiveness made him feel overheated in ways he did not entirely understand.   
  
“I meant no harm,” Sunstreaker said, “I would like to paint him though. Your intended is...beautiful.”   
  
Prowl watched him with heavy optics, “Perhaps, I shall consider it.”   
  
“Good,” the gold mech smirked and pinged Prowl his comm number before he turned to mingle back into the crowd.   
  
Bluestreak watched him go feeling half shaken. “You aren’t mad, are you?”    
  
“No, I am not mad,” he said, but he did not loosen the hand wrapped around Bluestreak. He pulled him closer, “I just think you should remember who you belong to.”    
  
Bluestreak’s engine stalled for a moment, “It’s not something I forget.”   
  
Prowl led him out of the gallery, “No, I don’t imagine that you do, but perhaps I will find something so that everyone else knows as well. I did not like the way that mech looked at you.”    
  
Bluestreak frowned, he knew that most mechs his age had already started interfacing. Prowl insisted on waiting until his next upgrade. He had raged against it for decacycles, but Prowl would not budge. Bluestreak’s plates had been locked well before he became interested in such things, they had been coded to only open for Prowl or a medic. It was frustrating at best, and had made him more than a little angry, but he had long since grown resigned to his fate.     
  
“What do you mean by that? Are you going to mark me?” he could not help but sound resentful.   
  
Prowl only smiled in reply, leaving Bluestreak more than a little bit worried. “Nothing bad, love, I think my marque would look nice on your wings. Show the world that you are mine.”   
  
“I’m not property, I’m a living bot,” Bluestreak glared at him balefully.   
  
“You are, yes, regardless...you are still mine.” Prowl tilted up Bluestreak’s chin, and caught his lips in a long kiss. “And only mine.”     
  
  


OoOoOoOoOoOo

  
Bluestreak looked in the mirror. He fluttered his doorwings, then leaned closer to examine the marque. Prowl’s houses seal. The intricately carved laserhawk stared at him, the tiny rubies set in its eye sockets winked at Bluestreak as the hit the light. They looked good, or at least like they belonged, harmonizing with his coloration.   
  
He felt---special wearing them, not that he could take them off, they were mag-locked on, but he didn’t mind. If anything, it made him preen. Soundwave didn’t wear Prowl’s marques after all. The host mech glowered at him anytime they were in the same room.   
  
Like now.   
  
He walked into the common room, it was occupied with most of the citadel’s denizens. Soundwave sat at one end, his optics alighting immediately on Bluestreak.   
  
“Bluestreak: pleasure slave now?” Soundwave asked, the smirk evident as he retracted his mask and visor.   
  
“Soundwave,” Blaster hissed, elbowing his brother. His blue optics looked apologetic, but Bluestreak couldn’t bring himself to care. They were all horrible.   
  
“You’re just jealous. He doesn’t care enough about you to announce his intention,” Bluestreak said, his lips pinching together in a frown.  
  
“Soundwave: Not property.”   
  
Bluestreak bristled. “Neither am I.”   
  
Soundwave smirked, “Bluestreak: No choice in his fate, marked like property, pampered like a pet. Very definition of property.”  
  
Bluestreak trembled, “You are a monster.”    
  
“Assessment: Prowl will tire of Bluestreak as soon as he has your seals.”   
  
“That is enough.” Prowl said, stepping out of the shadows, he stepped behind Bluestreak, putting his hands on the young mech’s doorwings. “I will not have this kind of behavior in my house, not from either of you.”    
  
Bluestreak shook even when Prowl’s hand tightened. The look that Soundwave shot him made his spark contract painfully. He did not doubt that the vampire would find a way to hurt him, and he could not see how Prowl would protect him from it.    
  
He let Prowl lead him away, the pain in his spark only increasing. Bluestreak whimpered, and the whimper turned into tears. “It’s all true then, isn’t it? You just want to use me and throw me away, and then---then you will just go back to him.”   
  
Prowl made a snorting sound, “If that was the case I would have had my way with you long ago, you foolish little thing.” He tilted up Bluestreak’s face, wiping the tears away with his thumb. “If I did not care, I would not have invested so much time and effort into you. Would I?”  
  
“No,” Bluestreak said in a tiny voice. “I guess you wouldn’t, you would have just taken what you wanted.”  
  
Prowl smiled, a rare enough sight and leaned in until their helms touched, “I count myself lucky to have been able to watch you grow-up. You are turning into a capable, beautiful mech. How could I not love you?”   
  
Bluestreak shuttered his optics, “And Soundwave?”  
  
“Is Soundwave. He has never been keen on sharing. What he does not understand is that I am not his. I have never been his, nor will I ever be.”   
  
“Never?” Bluestreak wharbled.   
  
“Never, I can promise you that.” Prowl said, catching Bluestreak’s lips against his own.   
  
  


OoOoOoOoOoOo

  
Bluestreak had seen the sculpture when they had went to the art gallery. It sat in the window of the little shop, with a number of other sculptures, but Bluestreak had his spark set on one. It was a laserhawk carved from a single piece of blue crystal, but like the bigger ones that occupied the gardens in the center of Praxus.   
  
He saved up the small allowance he was given for buying treats and trinkets until he finally had enough, it seemed like it took an age, but he scraped up enough in time for Prowl’s onlining sol. Sneaking out was difficult. Far more difficult than he had imagined, and the trip alone back to the little shop unnerved Bluestreak. He had only ever went up into the city with an escort. The buildings loomed over him, the streets were crowded, far more than he remembered from any of his trips out with Prowl. He tried to move with the crowd, even though it was all he could do not to flinch away anytime a mech brushed against him.   
  
Bluestreak made his way to the store feeling less confident by his choice to leave the safety of the compound. “Oh, come on Blue, you can do this,” he murmured to himself.   
  
  


OoOoOoOoOoOo

  
  
Prowl frowned as he stalked through the citadel. He had already checked Bluestreak’s room, the library and the training room, the little Praxian was nowhere to be found. In fact he did not sense Bluestreak anywhere close. He had nearly worked himself into a temper.   
  
“Bluestreak: left,” Soundwave finally offered, gaining him a death glare from Prowl.   
  
“What do you mean ‘he left’?” Prowl’s optics narrowed as he stepped closer to the host mech.   
  
“Bluestreak: went above,” Soundwave said sounding less sure this time.   
  
“You will help me find him then,” he growled. Soundwave’s optics widened behind his visor as Prowl grabbed his arm and pulled him along. “If you don’t, Unicron help me, I will take you apart a piece at a time.”   
  
“Soundwave: will assist.”   
  
“I thought you might see it that way,” Prowl said, letting go of Soundwave as soon as he assented. Prowl stalked his way to one of the tunnels leading to the city above.   
  
Soundwave followed, watching the elder vampire as he stalked through the city. He had never seen Prowl quiet so worked up as this. In truth he had never realized that Prowl’s feelings for the little Praxian were this strong. It made him in turns jealous and regretful.   
  
It was surprisingly easy to track the teenbot, enough of the shop workers had seen him in passing. The trail led them deeper into the city, close to the gallery they had visited orns ago. Finally they found Bluestreak, sitting on a bench in front of the gallery, clutching a statuette to him, and crying.    
  
“Bluestreak?” Prowl asked, kneeling before the little Praxian. “Why did you leave?”  
  
Bluestreak cried harder. “I just wanted to get you an onlining gift. I saved up all of my credits, and then---then I dropped it.” He moved his hand, showing where it had broken neatly in two.       
  
Prowl had a difficult time being angry after seeing the look on Bluestreak’s faceplates. “Blue...”   
  
“You’ve done so much for me, it was just a little thing,” he whimpered. “I messed even that up,” he looked up, finally spotting Soundwave handing back, and started crying again. “I’m not worthy of someone like you.”   
  
Prowl pulled a face, staring back at Soundwave, “Do you still doubt that he has my best wishes at spark, Soundwave?”   
  
If anything Soundwave looked recalcitrant. “Bluestreak: worthy. He has a good spark,” Soundwave whispered, watching the two Praxians.    
  
Bluestreak looked up, shock written clearly across his faceplates. “You really think so?”  
  
“He does Blue,” Prowl crooned, prying the statue from Bluestreak’s hands and tucked them into his subspace. He pulled the smaller Praxian closed, petting his plating and ignored the mech’s that passed looking on on them with curiosity.   
  
“Come on, brightspark,” Prowl said, pulling Bluestreak up. “It is time to go home.”   
  
Bluestreak leaned on him, closing his optics. “I’m sorry,” he said in a tiny voice.   
  
“It’s fine,” Prowl said as he led them home, Soundwave trailing behind.   
  
  


OoOoOoOoOoOo

  
  
Bluestreak curled up under his cooling blankets, he pulled them over his head, unwilling to face the world for a moment. The humiliation of the cycle before still lingered. Found crying like a little sparkling was not exactly how he wanted Prowl to find him, and far from what he wanted the vampire to perceive him to be: an adult.   
  
Finally he pulled the cover away and forced himself to face the nightcycle. He couldn’t change what happened, he could only hope Prowl forgot, and Soundwave really did mean what he had said.   
  
He crossed the room, and stopped, frowning as he finally noticed the crystal statue sitting on his desk. He picked it up, frowning, the crystal was fused back together, and it was repaired to the point that a bot could not even tell it had ever been broken. He turned it, examining it for a klik before placing it back in the desk and picking up the datapad that was lying next to it.   
  
He flicked it on, spark skipping a beat when he finally read the single line that popped up, “You are all the gift I ever need.”    
  
He gripped it convulsively, almost dropping the pad to the floor.   
  
He couldn't help but wonder if Prowl actual meant it. He smiled, an idea already forming in his processor.   
  
  


OoOoOoOoOoOo

  
Prowl frowned as he looked for Bluestreak the next nightcycle. The little mech had been avoiding him. It worried him, until he returned back to his rooms and felt Bluestreak’s presence inside. Prowl stood in the doorway for the longest time, wondering what the mech was up. He was tempted to reach out to his processor, but finally walked into the suite instead, through the sitting room, and to the berthroom.   
  
Prowl raised a brow plate, lip twitching up as he took the little Praxian smiling up at him hopefully, little metal bow magnetized to his interface panel.    
  
It was a brash move. Something Prowl could respect, really. “So, now you are gifting me yourself?” He couldn’t stop the little bubble of laughter that flowed out of his vocalizer.   
  
“Yes. You did say I was the only gift you needed,” Bluestreak said, looking suddenly uncertain. “You do want me, don’t you?”    
  
Prowl laughed, already opening the port in his arm and unspooling his data cable. “Oh, I want you. I definitely want you,” he said, pulling Bluestreak’s arm to him. The medical port slid open as he pinged it, and jacked in as soon as it slid open. Bluestreak wiggled against him, making a whining noise as his firewalls fell away in Prowl’s wake. Prowl only laughed, as Bluestreak whimpered again. He stroked the panel at the junction of Bluestreak’s legs, plucking the bow he tossed it to the side even as he plunged through Bluestreak’s processor adjusting the codes that locked his interface equipment away.   
  
“Is this what you want though?” Prowl asked, nuzzling Bluestreak’s adial. His hand’s drifted across Bluestreak’s plating.   
  
“Yes,” Bluestreak panted pressing back against Prowl. “More...please.”   
  
Prowl chuckled, pressing the smaller Praxian back into the berth. “Open up.”    
Bluestreak whined, but there was a loud snick as his panel opened as soon as Prowl asked.   
  
“Such a good mech,” Prowl purred, flicking a hand down Bluestreak’s abdominal plating. “So beautiful,” he smiled, nuzzling those same plates, and kissing his way down them until he stopped, hovering above Bluestreak’s interface equipment. He stopped for a moment, before his glossa flicked out, catching the rim of the grey mech’s valve.   
  
Bluestreak cried out, canting his hips he tried to press into Prowl’s touch.   
  
“And far too eager,” Prowl chuckled, pressing into the seal just inside Bluestreak’s valve. It buckled against the pressure, finally ripping open as Prowl pressed one claw into it. Fluid trickled out where it had been trapped behind the seal, puddling under Bluestreak’s aft. Prowl hummed as he nuzzled into the dripping valve, his glossa flicked out, lapping against the anterior node. Worrying at it until Bluestreak was left keening.   
  
He pushed one claw inside, brushing against sensitive nodes, pushing in and out until Bluestreak was thrashing, and gripping the mesh blanket in his fists.   
  
“Is that what you want, brightspark? More?” he added a second claw, amused at the way Bluestreak thrashed when he scissored them, pressing the spasming tunnel open, stretching it slowly. “So very tight,” Prowl purred  leaning in to catch Bluestreak’s lips with his own.   
  
His glossa flicked out, teasingly against Bluestreak’s lips until the smaller mech finally opened his mouth, granting Prowl access. His glossa flicked and teased Bluestreak’s until the smaller bot caught on, flicking his own against Prowl’s in a teasing pattern all his own.   
  
Prowl pulled away, panting, “And such a fast learner.”   
  
Bluestreak whimpered, pushing his hips up into Prowl’s touch, as he finally worked in a third finger, pumping them in and out.      
  
“Please...Prowl.” He canted his hips up again, arching into Prowl’s touch until he finally removed the fingers, and pressed the blunt head of his spike against the slick passage.   
  
Bluestreak bucked his hips up, trying to push more of the spike inside of him, impatient. Prowl only laughed, pinning his hips down as he pressed in slowly, enjoying Bluestreak’s begging as much as the velvety warmth that slowly engulfed him. He know Bluestreak would be tight, but it was nearly a painful thing. Just on the edge of it.   
  
Bluestreak whimpered and keened, clinging to Prowl when he was finally completely sheathed. His valve writhed, clamping down hard on the spike inside him.   
  
“So beautiful, and all mine,” Prowl smiled against Bluestreak’s neck plating. He was content to wait as the valve finally adjusted to his size, even though Bluestreak was far less patient.   
  
“Always yours. Now move,” he demanded, trying to press his hips up, whining as Prowl held him still.   
  
Prowl chuckled, nipping at Bluestreak’s neck, and finally pulling out slowly, until the just the tip was inside, pressing back in slowly. He set a slow, languid pace, teasing the bot underneath him. He pushed in deeply, hitting the ceiling node with each thrust.   
  
The charge built, crackling along their plating, catching Bluestreak by surprise as he was suddenly pushed over the edge, keening and clinging to Prowl.   
  
Prowl picked up the pace, lifting up Bluestreak’s hips changing the angle so he was hitting the frontal nodes with each pass. The charge rose, peaking. Prowl’s hands moving pinching Bluestreak’s doorwings, smoothing across the plating, dipping between the seams.   
  
Bluestreak gasped, arching up as he was pushed over the edge, valve clamping down hard enough to send Prowl into overload with him. They fell together into a tangle of limbs and pinging metal.   
  
Bluestreak was hard pressed to make himself move, Prowl curled against him, holding him tightly, and pressed kissed against Bluestreak’s still hot frame.   
  
“Again?” Bluestreak asked, already wiggling underneath him.   
  
Prowl chuckled, nuzzling into Bluestreak’s plating. “Oh, brightspark.” Prowl held him tighter, half tempted to usher the mech into the washwrack. He didn’t have to look to know they were both a scuffed mess. He gave into temptation finally, getting up and pulling Bluestreak along, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”   
  
  


OoOoOoOoOoOo

  
Prowl had scrubbed his plating until there wasn’t a single mark left, and then waxed him until he shone. It was relaxing being pampered, and soon Bluestreak found himself halfway in recharge as he sat under Prowl’s ministrations.   
  
“I love you,” he said sleepily, leaning against Prowl.   
  
“I love you, too,” Prowl said, scooping him up easily and carrying the drowsy mech back into the berthroom. The room had been cleaned by cleaning drones while the were in the washrack, the disarray they had left it in was no longer apparent.   
  
Bluestreak smiled up at him, optics half shuttered.   
  
“Rest, little one, we have plans to make in the next cycle.” He stroked Bluestreak’s plating as he settled them both on the berth, pulling the meshes around them.   
  
Bluestreak offlined his optics, relaxing into Prowl’s embrace. “What sort of things?”   
  
“Your final upgrade. The party to follow. They will all be jealous to see you on my arm,” Prowl purred.  
  
“I...wasn’t aware---you---I---” Bluestreak floundered, his optics going wide.   
  
Prowl chuckled, the sound reverberating against Bluestreak’s plating. “You will officially be introduced into our society as part of my retinue. “My kind so rarely congregates, but most will come for this. Most. I know Shockwave will stay away, not a bad thing.”  
  
Bluestreak wondered if the world had tilted on it’s end for a moment, he had not quite imagined that he would really end up in such a position. “I belong to you then?”   
  
“And only me,” Prowl said firmly pulling Bluestreak tight against him.   
  
Bluestreak’s engine sputtered for a moment. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” It settled into a low purr, “this is just a weird flux, isn’t it?”  
  
“No, now recharge,” Prowl said, more than a little bit amused.   
  
  


OoOoOoOoOoOo

  
Time passed far more quickly than Bluestreak anticipated. His final upgrades were still settling into place as those around him prepared for his party. He was in turns overjoyed, and terrified that he would be the center of attention. Prowl puttered around him, having insisted on Preparing Bluestreak for his debut into society. Bluestreak was not entirely sure why it was necessary, but he never minded when Prowl fussed over him. He could never remember being buffed to quite such a brilliant shine.   
  
“Had we more time...” Prowl sighed, “I would paint you with the traditional glyphs. But, I fear our guests would be here soon.”   
  
Bluestreak’s optics widened. “This is important...isn’t it.” He wiggled within Prowl’s grasp, craning his neck to watch him put on the finishing touches. He counted himself lucky that Prowl did not want to inflict the hours it would take to paint the glyphs or wear the heavy ceremonial jewelry and armor.   
  
“I have said as much, brightspark. My kind gathering is a rare enough event,” Prowl said as he pulled Bluestreak close, far too mindful of his finish for Bluestreak’s taste.   
  
He did not protest as Prowl hurried him along to the great hall. He did gape at all of the bots gathered there. He had never seen the hall so full with so many faces he could not place.   
  
Prowl whisked him towards a large, gun-metal grey mech that towered over them both, and two much smaller, more brightly colored mechs. “Megatron, you look well. It has been an age since I saw you last.”   
  
“Prowl,” Megatron rumbled. “I don’t believe you’ve met my consorts, Orion and Rodimus.” He curled a possessive arm around both of the smaller mechs, but they looked far from unhappy about it.   
  
“You must be Bluestreak,” Rodimus said, smiling brightly. “This must be overwhelming, I know I’m glad I never had one of these.” He grinned cheekily, “Not that I gave them the chance.”   
  
Megatron laughed, “We all had wondered if you were ever going to start a retinue. It has been a long time, old friend.”   
  
“Yes, but those times have passed,” Prowl said, placing a hand at the base of Bluestreak’s spinal strut. “Thankfully. Now if only my brothers would settle.”   
  
Megatron laughed, “I wish you luck with that.”   
  
“I’m sure I will need it,” Prowl laughed.   
  
“It was nice meeting you, Bluestreak,” Orion offered, smiling, “Congratulations.”   
  
Energon rushed to Bluestreak’s faceplates as he stammered his thanks. Prowl took him about the room, making introductions, so many that the faces all became a blur. So many. He tried to file all the names away, match them with the faces, but it was overwhelming, even more so when Prowl left his side to get him something to drink.    
  
He recognized the mechs that approached him when Prowl left. Sunstreaker. He had never guessed that the mech was one of Prowl’s kind.   
  
“Hello, pretty bot,” the golden one purred. “Are you going to let me paint you now?”  He threw an arm around Bluestreak, pulling him close. “I bet you taste wonderful.”   
  
“Better than that,” Sideswipe agreed, nuzzling into Bluestreak’s neck, his fangs scraped against the fragile plating there.    
  
Bluestreak whimpered as he felt the fangs sink in, first Sideswipe’s and then Sunstreaker’s. The twins surrounded him, pressing against him and drinking down the energon in his lines. He whimpered again, more loudly this time, shuttering his optics. As wonderful as it felt, it also felt wrong, in a spark deep way. He pushed at them, “Let me go. Prowl---won’t---”  
  
One minute the twins were against him and the next they were being thrown against the wall. They slumped against it, shaking themselves, but they did not rise, instead they watched Prowl. The Praxian’s wings flared on his back in clear aggression. “Stay away from what is mine. I won’t warn you again,” he growled, pulling Bluestreak to his side. “Next time you will not leave with your life,” he said, optics narrowing and settling on Sunstreaker’s faceplates.  
  
“We meant no harm,” Sideswipe said.   
  
“It matters little to me. Stay away from what is mine or I will end you.” He laced his fingers in Bluestreak’s, pulling the smaller mech away. “I will not warn you again,” he threw over his shoulder.   
  
Prowl was still growling as they crossed the hall, making their way through the crowd. He finally stopped in front of a Praxian that Bluestreak did not recognize. “Smokescreen---I was not aware you were back.” Prowl’s optics drifted past his brother to the sulky looking blue noble hovering behind him.   
  
“I’ve been busy, but it was not like I would have missed this,” he gave Bluestreak a brilliant smile, “You must be Blue, I’ve heard a lot about you.”   
  
“Oh...you have?” Bluestreak said, shifting from ped to ped. “I have...heard very little about you.”  
  
Smokescreen laughed, and pulled the blue mech close to him, “And this is my bondmate, Mirage. I am sure you will get on well.” The mech was still at Smokescreen’s side, and Bluestreak did not miss the look Prowl shot Smokescreen.   
  
Bluestreak smoothed a smile across his faceplates, not wanting Prowl’s mood to sour any further than it already was. “I am sure we will.” He gave Prowl’s hand a little squeeze. “It was nice meeting you finally, but I think we have other guests to greet.”   
  
Prowl led him away, through the crowd, and finally into one of the corridors leading to the living quarters. He didn’t protest when Prowl pushed him through the first door they came to. He cried out as he was pushed against the door as soon as it closed and Prowl’s mouth descended on his own. Bluestreak mewled as Prowl mech-handled him, pinning him against the door, and finally hooking his arms under Bluestreak legs.   
  
Bluestreak’s optics widened as he heard the tell-tale snick of Prowl’s interface panel. “Open,” the order came out in a growl, far from Prowl’s normally calm tone. Bluestreak was so surprised he opened his own panel without a second’s thought, gasping when Prowl slid in, not bothering to stretch him.    
  
Bluestreak was already slick, his valve squeezing tightly against the invader. The nodes felt oversensitized already, charge dancing off of them as Prowl began to move, pounding into the smaller Praxian, hitting the ceiling node with each stroke. “You are mine,” he rumbled against Bluestreak’s audial before plunging his fangs into where Sunstreaker had bit Bluestreak earlier, singularly intent on erasing all trace of the twins from Bluestreak’s chassis.   
  
Bluestreak wailed, bending nearly in half he clung to Prowl as the Praxian pushed him over the edge over and over until he was limp in the vampires grasp.  Prowl opened his vents as wide as they would go, venting against Bluestreak. They stayed there for a click before Prowl finally set the dazed mech on his decidedly unsteady peds.   
  
Bluestreak stared, optics blinking and wide as Prowl manually shut his panel, and then his own, and pushed him towards the door. His joints felt rubbery, and it was with unsteady peds that he followed Prowl back towards the great hall. He was already in the crowd before he realized the state that his chassis was in. There was no mistaking what they had been doing, not with the paint transfers decorating his pelvis, or the smell of transfluid that lingered around him. He felt his cheek plates heating up in embarrassment.   
  
He glanced back, noting Prowl’s smug expression. If anything it made Bluestreak’s cheeks flush hotter. It was impossible to miss the pointed look Prowl threw at the twins, or the way the red and gold bots glowered back at him. The rest of the night Prowl kept him close, smirking the entire time.   
  
  
  


OoOoOoOoOoOo

  
  
Prowl was uncharacteristically clingy in the sols that followed, as if he expected some bot to spirit Bluestreak away. He was not entirely sure how to take it all, or how to adjust to Prowl’s whims. The mech would frag him into the berth, given half the chance. The wall, the berth, any available flat surface, and as much as he enjoyed it...it worried him. It made him wonder, not for the first time if he would not be shuffled away some place far away once Prowl tired of him. The citadel was the only home he had ever known, the very thought of being sent away made Bluestreak’s spark contract painfully within his chest.   
  
Prowl did not seem to notice his conflicted state, or perhaps he did not care. Bluestreak wasn’t sure which was worse. For once he sucked it up, and kept telling himself he was an adult now. Crumbling at the first sign of trouble was not what adults did, from what he had observed from those around him. Barricade never did, and he could tell the mech was sad all the time, nor did Soundwave even after Prowl stopped paying attention to him. He could tell it hurt the carrier mech, but they both knew there was nothing to be done about that. Prowl was unshakable once he made up his mind on something.   
  
He steeled himself, straightened his backstrut, and decided he would be whatever Prowl needed. The old vampire may not love him, but he loved Prowl with all of his spark, and he would do his best to be what Prowl needed and wanted until he did not need him anymore. It made his heart contract painfully, but it was all that he could think to do.   
  
He grabbed the energon blade he had stolen from the armoury, and tucked it away in the drawer beside his berth. If things didn’t work out, and Prowl did tire of him the last thing he wanted to be was a burden.    
  
  



End file.
